


To Carve a Name Across Your Heart

by AwkwardFortuna



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Android Gore (Detroit: Become Human), Angst, Anti-Android Sentiments (Detroit: Become Human), Body Modification, Canon-Typical Violence, Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant hunter RK900, F/F, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gavin has a shitty week, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Scars, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tags May Change, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardFortuna/pseuds/AwkwardFortuna
Summary: Hank Anderson dies on a Tuesday night by his own hand and with his own fucking gun.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

Hank Anderson dies on a Tuesday night by his own hand and with his own fucking gun.

When the call comes in, Gavin is wide awake, clutching his wrist to his chest. It hurts, feels like he’s pressed his wrist against a hot stove or the barrel of a smoking gun, except the pain is coming from _inside,_ like his veins are boiling.

He’s running his wrist under cold water when Fowler rings.

“What?!” 

“Gavin... _it’s Hank._ ”

That’s all that Fowler needs to say. He knew one day this call would come, he just wasn’t expecting it to happen so suddenly. His cell phone falls from numb fingers, it clatters against the sink. On his left wrist is a burnt and ugly raised scar, pink and shiny, still hot to the touch and fevered.

For the first time in his life, _Hank Anderson’s_ name is gone from his wrist.

“Gavin, are you there? _Gavin?”_

He vomits.

*

It is raining at the funeral, from the looks of it, everyone came prepared. Everyone except Gavin. His suit is soaked through, the fabric sticks to his skin. 

“Don’t look so sour,” Tina whispers, stepping close and shielding him with the bulk of her umbrella. “This thing will be over soon enough...After, we can stop by that donut place you like?”

“M’not hungry.” 

“You’ve got to eat something, Gavin. You’re losing weight. You’re not sleeping. You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“I just want you to-“

“Shhh, _”_ a woman hisses.

Gavin recognizes her as Cole’s old elementary teacher, _Mrs. Wooville,_ or whatever. Hank used to bitch about her constantly, Gavin’s starting to see why.

“I just want you to know that I’m here for you,” Tina whispers. 

Across the crowd, Gavin recognizes Hank's ex-wife, Elizabeth. She’s standing arm-in-arm with Fowler, dabbing her tears away with a black handkerchief.

She looks like shit, too, with red-rimmed eyes and mascara running down her face. Death has touched her one too many times and now it’s beginning to show. Gavin used to envy her, back when he was young and idealistic. Back when he still believed in soulmates. Now, he's not sure how he feels but the look she's sending him makes him writhe with anxiety.

“I want you to know that we’re _all_ here for you Gavin-“

“ _Shhhh!"_

“I’m trying to comfort my friend here!” Tina whisper-shouts.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Elizabeth disengage with Fowler and make her way over to him. His heart falls into his stomach.

“This a funeral! Have some respect!”

“ _You_ have some respect-“

“Tina, I have to go.”

“What?”

Gavin attempts to flee but his shoes slip in the rain-slick grass. Tina reaches out for him and promptly loses her balance, sending them both on their asses.

“Who are you people?!” The teacher shrieks, garnering the attention of the rest of the crowd. 

Gavin’s face turns beet red. Fowler shakes his head in pity. 

“It’s okay, Diana,” Elizabeth says, appearing at the annoying teacher’s side, laying a gentle hand upon her shoulder. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Don’t bother,” Gavin snaps, righting himself. “I was just leaving.”

“ _Gavin_ ,” Tina hisses.

But he’s already storming off, his heart beating like a drum, his suit sticking to him like a second skin and his wrist aching with every step that he takes. He can hear Tina calling after him. He can feel Elizabeth's gaze, and the weight of Hank's presence as he is lowered into the ground.

On his way to the parking lot, he shoulder checks some weirdo wearing sunglasses and a hoodie. He ignores the mystery man’s stare as he readies his motorbike, all the while cursing himself for thinking it would be a good idea to come to Hank's funeral.

“Not gonna wear a helmet?” the man calls out to him.  
  
“What the fuck is it to you?” Gavin snaps, kicking off from his kickstand and revving his bikes’ engine. His wrist aches.

“Could be that God has a plan for you. Maybe don’t test your fate?”

_“Fck off."_

His tires screech against the concrete, he leaves everyone behind in his dust.

*  
  


Hank checked out mentally long before he did physically, and his leftover work shows. He’s got a handful of cases still open, all of them regarding androids in some way or another. From what Gavin can tell, Hank hadn’t closed a case in years.

It's bullshit, _a_ _ll of it._ The fact that he got away with doing the bare minimum for so long. The fact that no one but Gavin had the guts to confront him and call him a drunk asshole to his face. It's all just a bunch of bullshit, and Hank's files, placed _purposefully_ on his desk, are the shittiest cherry on top. He’s got enough shit to deal with, he doesn't need Hank's too.

He tells Fowler as much, storming into his office with Hank’s files and slamming them down onto his desk.

“Why the fuck are you leaving me with Hank’s shit?!.”  
  
“I thought you wanted more work, Gavin? _There it is._ ” Fowler sighs, scrolling through emails on his computer.

“I didn’t ask for _Hank’s_ work.”  
  
“Well, that’s all that’s leftover.” Fowler eyes the stack of files on his desk, he pushes them back toward Gavin. “Take it or leave it.”

_“Fine._ ” He picks the files back up, holding them at arm's length. His wrist aches. “Don’t expect me to clean up after anyone else, after this.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Fowler snarks.

He’s just about to leave the man’s office when Fowler calls him back in.

  
“What?”

  
“I’m only gonna ask you this once, so answer honestly, capiche?”  
  
“Yeah, whatever.”  
  
“How are you doing? How’s your grieving?”  
  
“Oh, fuck off!” He snaps. “What are you? A fckin’ counselor all of a sudden?”

“I have to ask, Gavin. I need to keep a welfare check on all of my officers.” 

“Like you did for Hank?”

“Fuck you,” Fowler says darkly. “That’s uncalled for and you know it.”

“...sorry.”  
  
“Just answer me honestly...are you doing okay?”  
  
The pain in his wrist is still there, but it’s milder now, a subtle ache that work helps to distract him from. He’s eating more at least, at the behest of Tina. But most nights he can’t sleep and some mornings he can barely get out of bed. The way he’s acting is fuckin’ pathetic.

He and Hank were never a _thing_. Hank never looked at him more than twice. Gavin didn’t mean shit to the older man, the soul mark on his wrist meant nothing and Hank doesn’t deserve his grief, but something inside of him keeps him awake at night. It keeps him tossing and turning.

  
“I’m fine, Fowler.” Gavin's tired all the time. So fucking tired. “Can I go now?”  
  
“Yes, but if you need help you’ll tell me, right?”  
  
“...yeah.”

“Promise?”  
  
“Do you want me to pinky swear, too?”  
  
“Just promise me you’ll get help if you need it.”  
  
“Yeah, whatever, I promise.”  
  
“That’s all I need to hear.”

Gavin rolls his eyes. On his way out, he closes Fowler’s door with more force than necessary. 

When he gets back to his desk Tina’s there, sitting in his chair.

“What’d the Captain say?”

“He said to get out of my fckin’ chair.”  
  
 _“Ha,”_

Tina gets up and sits at the edge of his desk instead, swinging her feet absentmindedly. She’s been coming around to hang out with him more often. Gavin figures it’s her attempts to keep an eye on him, make sure that he’s not following in Hank’s footsteps or getting ready to off himself. _As if he'd give anyone the satisfaction._

“So, what’d Fowler really say?”  
  
“He said _‘take the extra work or don't,’”_

“And did you?”  
  
Gavin drops the stack of files onto his desk. “What do you think?”

She whistles. “That gonna keep you busy?”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“Too busy to get drinks with me and Miller later?”

  
“Looks like.”  
  
She frowns, she’s been trying to get him to go out all week. 

  
“Well, if you finish work early, we’ll be at the bar by eight.”  
  
“Thanks.”

*

Some of the cases are half-finished while others are the bare bones of an investigation. It's not much, but it is more than drunken ramblings, something that Gavin was expecting. Most of the files are centered around missing androids, stolen property, or vandalism. Hank's got a few leads here and there but it's not enough for Gavin to go off of. There's a witness list at least, some of the names are underlined, the pen marks are indented deep into the paper by Hank's drunk and heavy hand. He 's running his fingers over the indentations, tracing the path of each letter.

When morning comes, he'll start with Hank's witness list but for now, he's ready to crawl under his covers and get into bed. He's doing just that when Tina texts him a photo of her and Chris with an empty chair between them.

_'It's_ _not the same without you!"_

' _Drink a beer for_ _me.'_

His phone blips with a new image. This time, it's a picture of his vacated seat with a beer placed in front of it.

' _Already did!"_

Tina sends a few more photos his way, photos of her and Chris getting drunker by the minute.

He dozes off sometime around midnight to the comfort of her messages.

*

Gavin wakes up bleary-eyed at 3 am. His jaw is aching from clenched teeth. There are tears in his eyes, leftover from the content of his dreams. He's curled in on himself, buried beneath his bed covers and attempting to soothe the ache in his wrist. For a moment, he thinks he can feel the lettering there, but when he looks down the name is still gone, pink, and scarred over. An ugly mar on his skin.

His phone is ringing, Fowler's name flashes like a beacon across the screen. He fumbles for it, swiping for the call button with shaky fingers.

  
"Yeah?" His voice is wet, the word comes out soft with a hitch like he's been crying. He sounds so fucking pathetic, it makes him feel sick. He clears his throat and tries again. 

_"Yeah?"_ he grunts.  
  
"There's been a murder."

It shouldn't be a relief to hear, but it eases the tension in his shoulders somewhat.

"Where?"  
  
"The Eden Club."

"That place with the sexy androids?"  
  
"You're familiar?"  
  
"From ads on t.v and shit, I swear."  
  
"Right. Just get down there as soon as you can."  
  
"I'm on it," Gavin grunts, already pulling himself out of bed and fumbling for last night's pair of jeans.  
  
"Gavin?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"When you get there, expect some company."  
  
"What kind of company?"  
  
"The Cyberlife kind."

"Cyberlife? What the hell do they want?" Gavin asks, but the line is already dead.  
  


*

The victim, Michael Graham, had a long history with the Eden Club. His account with them dates back three years or so, his financial records indicate that he has been on the receiving end of multiple fines from the club, all regarding property damages and misconduct.

Stepping over the broken WR400, Gavin can see why.

The thing is _messed_ up. Part of its chassis has been kicked in, it's neck is broken from strangulation, bent at an odd angle. There's a bullet wound in its left thigh, It's bleeding blue all over the carpet.

Michael Graham doesn't fare much better, his throat is crushed to pieces, his neck is practically Jell-O. The kinky fucker took on more than he could handle, but at least he died doing what he loved, _fuckin' androids to pieces._ Gavin lets out a dark chuckle, Officer Wilson frowns at him.

"I don't see how any of this is funny," he grunts, pointing at the victim's body. "This guys' _dead,_ Reed."

"Yeah, well, he certainly went out with a bang, didn't he?"

Wilson lets out a noise of disgust, he shakes his head at Gavin, snapping pictures of the victim's neck for evidence. "It's too early for this shit. Three am and we've got to deal with the body of some guy, murdered by androids? What's the world coming to?"

"Tell me about it," Gavin sighs, pulling out his data-pad and snapping pics of the broken android. "I've always said, never trust a-" he falters mid-sentence.

There, on the WR400's wrist is a name.

"Gavin?"

He whips his gloves out from his jacket pocket and uses them to turn the android's wrist over. There, written in perfect Cyberlife script, is the name ' _Blue._ _'_

"What is it?" 

"A soul mark."

"Now _that's_ funny," Wilson laughs, stepping over to him.

"I'm not joking."

"Come on, Reed, there's no fuckin' way that's a soul mark. Get your head checked."

He lets the WR400's wrist drop from his hands like it's burned him, it falls limp against the floor. There's an ache in his chest, a wave of anxiety washes over him. He suddenly feels sick.

"I need a smoke."

"Yeah, you do that," Wilson scoffs, snapping pictures of the android. "Just leave me with all the work," he mutters.

Gavin fumbles out of the room, the neon lights of the club hurt his eyes, an android calls out to him, then another, offering its services.

A man is standing in the center of it all, stoic and silent in the midst of the club’s debauchery. There’s a badge on his hip and a gun on the other. He must be another fed though Gavin’s never seen him before. He’s tall and shockingly handsome...he’s also in Gavin’s fucking way.

Gavin shoves past him with a hard shoulder check, ignoring the inquisitive look that the man shoots him. He eventually reaches the back exit and practically barrels through the door, relishing in the cool morning air.

*

It's been fifteen minutes already. He should be back inside, cataloging evidence, taking statements, and hunting down the second android that Michael Graham had rented, but there's a ringing in his ears. His heart is still beating like a drum. His wrist throbs, it feels like it's burning, just like the night that Hank died, the night his name disappeared from his wrist forever.

_Fuck,_ the cigarette isn't doing much to calm his nerves, if anything it's making him feel worse. He's operating on two hours of sleep, he hasn't eaten breakfast. Maybe that's the reason why he's feeling so crummy.

He lights a second cigarette, he inhales the smoke like a starving man. His wrist spasms in pain.

Back when he was younger, when he was a rookie and the stress of the job got to be too much for him, he would go to the DPD rooftops and Hank would find him there and he'd say ' _Got a spare, kid?"_ and Gavin would give him a cig and he would _ache_ and he would _pray_ for the cigarettes to burn slowly, just so his time with Hank could last.

He was so fucking _desperate_ it disgusts even himself.

The cigarette turns to ash in his mouth, he spits it out against the wet concrete with a cough, he digs his heel into it, smothering the sparks.

When he looks up, he sees the eyes of a WR400 staring back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

The Traci has a gun trained on him, most likely belonging to the victim. He keeps his head low, unthreatening and unassuming.

"Toss me your gun," she demands. Her voice sounds glitchy like a cellphone stuck underwater, possibly from the damage of Michael Graham’s choking fetish.

Gavin unclips it from his waistband, he tosses it on the ground between them. 

She steps into the light and Gavin can see that there are scratches down her arms, deep gouge marks turned white, evidence of a struggle. She's dressed like all the other Traci's, in black underwear and bra. But of all the androids he's seen so far, she's the only one with blue hair. She lets the first gun go in favor of taking Gavin's. It must've been empty.

"Turn around, get on your knees."

”You know this place is _crawling_ with officers," Gavin grunts, kneeling slowly. "You're not gonna get out of here, not in one piece.”

"That's why you're coming with me." She presses the barrel of the gun hard against the base of his skull. "You're gonna listen to me, you're gonna do what I say. Don't make a sound and I won't hurt you, got it?"

"Is that what Michael Graham said before he-"

She pistol whips him with the back of his gun. For a moment he's seeing stars. He goes limp in her grasp and she jerks him upright, back into a kneeling position.

"I _said_ don't make a sound."

"Got it." Gavin slurs, vertigo has got a hold of him.

 _"Get up,"_ she seethes.

He does so on shaky legs. She puts an arm around him and snakes it under his jacket to press the gun deep into his side.

"We're gonna walk back into the club and out the front doors, got it?"

"Yeah."

She pushes the gun in deeper, he grimaces. " _I got it."_

"Good. Don't try anything. Keep your head down.”

They walk into the club like that, her arms wrapped around him like a lovers' embrace, effectively hiding the gun beneath the bulk of his jacket. From an outside perspective, they look like the average call-girl and john. There are a few officers milling about but none of them are looking his way. 

" _Keep moving,_ " she hisses. _"We're almost there."_

"You're name, it's Blue, right?"

"Stop talking."

"I saw that name on the WR400, on her wrist, she-"

 _"I said_ stop talking _."_

The gun digs in deeper, he's gonna have a bruise come morning.

"Why was your name on her wrist?"

"The same reason you have a name on yours. We're _soul mates_." She snaps.

"Bullshit." the gun goes in deeper, his side aches from the pain of it. "You can't love, you're just programmed to-"

Officer Wilson appears suddenly, his back is toward them. "Hey, has anyone seen Reed?"

They duck inside of a private room, furnished pink with shag carpeting. Upon their entrance, a light show begins to play, projecting pink and red hearts against them.

_'Welcome to the Lover's Lounge,'_

an automated voice says.

"I can love. I can feel. Just like you do."

The gun is pressed against his chin, effectively keeping him in place. The Traci keeps her ear to the door, waiting for the sound of footsteps to end.

"No, you just _think_ you can. You're a deviant, you're malfunctioning-"

She grabs his wrist, _hard,_ and presses the edge of her nail against the scars there. His soul mark flares to life, a white-hot pain shoots through him. He tries to jerk away from her but she tightens her grip.

"I loved her, and she loved me _."_

"You're deviant," he says through gritted teeth, his wrist spasming. "You _killed_ someone, crushed their neck until the bones turned to jelly."

"I didn't mean to! I just- I wanted him to stop but he wouldn't stop! He just kept going! and he killed _her_ he killed my soul mate and I-I"

She lets go of his wrist, he cradles it to his chest.

"We're the same."

She holds her wrist up. There's nothing there but the white scars of her chassis bleeding through. Maybe it's where her soul mark used to be, or would've been if Gavin believed her. He _doesn't_ believe her.

"You're malfunctioning you need to turn yourself-"

She presses the gun against his lips, hard enough to clack against his teeth. "It doesn't matter what you think. I know the truth, and the truth is that I loved her and she loved me."

She wraps her arms around him and once again, the gun is back at his side.

"It’s quiet now. Let’s go."

*

They step out of the Lover's Lounge, and immediately into a stand-off. 

Out of the pan and into the fire, there is no way the Traci is getting out of Eden, not with its life, not in one piece. 

She brings the gun up to Gavin's head, the cold steel presses against his temple. Pain flares throughout his wrist with each beat of his heart.

"Lower your weapons or I'll kill him! I swear I'll do it!" Blue shouts, jamming the gun into the side of his head for emphasis. 

His fellow officers train their guns on them, primarily aiming for the Traci, but Gavin knows that only half of the DPD’s officers have steady hands, and the majority of them aren’t even here. He's either gonna get off'ed by the Traci or caught in the crossfire.

"Get your fuckin' guns out of my face!" He shouts. "Do as she fckin' says!"

Thankfully, they lower their weapons. Gavin spies Wilson in the crowd who looks at him sheepishly. 

Blue swings Gavin around so he's in front of her, acting as a human body shield. The gun is still glued to his temple. She starts to walk towards the front of the club.

"Murder and now kidnapping an officer, did you really think this through?" Gavin asks.

"Shut up! _"_

"If you let me go, I can help you, I swear I can! One widow to another-“

She shoves him hard against a Traci pod. It houses a WR400, the same make and model as the broken Traci from earlier.

"Open it."

"You want me to rent a-"

"Open it!" 

He does just that. Well, he attempts to. The palm-reader scans his hand and promptly flashes _red_ it reads _Insufficient funds._

Great, he's gonna die broke in a fucking sex club.

"What are you doing?" she shouts. "I said to open it!"

"I don't have enough-"

 _"WR400-950-455-437,_ you are experiencing a malfunction known as Deviancy. Drop your weapon and stand down."

It is the handsome guy from earlier, he’s got his gun aimed at Blue, a steady hand with a steady gaze.

"Drop the weapon or I will be forced to shoot."

Blue pulls Gavin to her, the gun is tucked under his chin.

“No one shoot!” Gavin yells, the same time Blue shouts "Get out of my way!”

She backs them into a corner, she’s just about to speak again when suddenly, there is a bang.

It echoes throughout the club, deafening in its resonance. Gavin flinches as she bursts into thirium.

"I said not to fucking shoot!" he screams. There is a ringing in his ears. He stumbles out of her grasp as she slumps to the ground with a mechanical whir.

His feet slip on her blood. Her eyes are fixed on his, blinking sporadically in a glitch-like pattern before falling closed. Gavin turns away from her, he wipes the thirium off of his face with the back of his sleeve. His hands shake.

"There was a 67% chance that she was going to shoot you, detective, and a 33% chance that you would be caught in a friendly crossfire. I merely took those options off of the table."

"Yeah? well when I say don't shoot, you don't fucking shoot,” Gavin seethes.

He advances on the mystery man and shoves him back. “You just shot the only lead I had on this case, now I’m back at square one.”

“I did not cause irreversible damage to the WR400. With Cyberlife specialists, she may be able to be reactivated-“

”I don’t work on _maybes_.” Gavin snaps. “Just who the fuck do you think you are, anyway? What division are you from? What precinct?"

"I am from Cyberlife."

"What?" Gavin scoffs, tugging his thirium coated jacket off. The Traci in the pod still beckons, calling him over with a finger wave and twirl of her hips. The body of the Traci, _Blue_ , lays stiff and dead at the base.

"What? Cyberlife has its own investigation team, now?"

"Not officially. This is a trial period for a future line of police force androids."

"Police force androids? Wait, _you're_ an android?"

"Were you under the impression that I was not?"

Gavin lets out a string of curses. He throws his jacket down on the floor before abruptly turning to find Wilsons' face in the advancing crowd.

“Did you fucking know about this?"

"I-I just found out a little while ago, I was gonna tell you once I found you but then..." he motions towards the slumped over Traci model. "All of _that_ happened."

"Does Fowler know?"

”Fowler is who sent me here.”

”I wasn’t talking to you, plastic,” Gavin snaps.

Then, as if in afterthought, “where’s your fuckin’ light switch?”

"Do you mean an LED?"

"Yeah. Where is it? Detroit Law states that an android needs to wear one at all times."

"An android needs to wear it unless given a direct order not to. In this case, Fowler implied that our meeting would go better if you were unable to identify me as Android."

The robot takes a step closer to him. It has to look down in order to make eye contact with Gavin. That alone is enough to set him on edge. He clenches his fists.

”Did it work, detective?”

The punch that Gavin sends his way is beautiful, with perfect form and just the right amount of force. Being left-handed, not many are expecting a cold-cock punch to come at them from their right hand-side, but Gavin’s not punching just anyone, he’s not even punching a human being, something he’d do good to remember.

The Android grabs his fist in the bulk of its hand, effectively stopping Gavin in his tracks.

“Detective, you are exhibiting signs of shock. Your blood pressure is significantly rising. Your hands are trembling.”

He jerks his hand back, unsuccessfully. He spits out a curse. The Android rubs his thumb beneath the cuff of his long-sleeve. He grazes over his pulse and over his soul mark scar. It sends a shiver down his spine. His entire wrist fucking aches _._ Thirium is soaking into his skin, it gives off a horrible chemical smell that’s going to be a bitch to get rid of. The Traci keeps cooing at him from her place in the pod. The blue Traci’s puddle of thirium is still growing, it begins to coat the bottom of his shoes.

”Perhaps you should sit down, detective.” 

It let’s go of him then. If Gavin had his gun still, he’d blow the robot-fucker’s brains out. But his gun is still stuck in the Traci’s grasp and it needs to be confiscated for evidence. He takes a step back, he holds his wrist tightly to his chest.

“If I see your fucking face again, plastic, you’re dead fckin’ meat.”

He storms off from the crime scene, red in the face and breathing in short, sharp, breaths. He’s gonna get on his motorbike, head to the precinct and demand answers from Fowler. He shakes the androids’ phantom touch from his wrist with a flick of his hand. He can feel its eyes on him still, even as he rides down the street.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Fowler cuts into Gavin. He chews him up and spits him out, lectures him on his behavior at the crime scene even though none of it was technically Gavin’s fault.

“If that fckin’ android hadn’t been there-”

“Then you would’ve been dead!” Fowler shouts, shaking the glass panes of his office.

“You need to put your goddamned ego aside and accept help when it’s being offered to you!”

Gavin slams his fist down on the desk and immediately regrets it when a jarring pain gets sent down his wrist. He flicks his hand out to the side, flexes it, and ignores the way Fowler’s eyes are attracted to the scar on his wrist. He pulls his sleeve down, hiding it.

“I’m not gonna accept _shit_ from an android-”

“You are if you want to keep your job,” Fowler shouts. He crosses his arms and glares down at Gavin, he points to his badge. “Hand it over. Now.”

“T-that’s not- that’s not fckin’ fair!”

“Who said life was fair?” Fowler snaps. “If you don’t wanna make nice with the android, if you don’t wanna apologize to it for that shit show of a crime scene then I will gladly consider this your resignation.”

Gavin’s blood is boiling. He wants to scream at Fowler and call him every name that he can think of. His heart is beating fast in his chest like a bird banging against the walls of its cage. He needs a cigarette, he needs a face to beat his fists against. No, he needs a _drink_ except it’s still too early in the day to go bar hopping but Gavin is willing to bet that if he were to waltz over to Jimmy’s and ask for a drink on the rocks at 11:30 am then there would be no questions asked. Except, that’s exactly the kind of shit Hank would pull, back when he was still alive, and that’s exactly the kind of man that Gavin doesn’t ever want to be and- _shit_ , here he goes thinking about Hank again. _Fuck._

Gavin lets his face drop heavily into his hands like he can block out Fowler and his entire office.

“Fine...” Gavin grumbles, voice muffled by the palm of his hands. “I’ll make ‘ _nice’_ with the android.”

“Great!” Fowler claps his hands together. “Now go clean yourself up! You look like shit”

“Fuck you,” Gavin scoffs, but his heart isn’t fully in it. 

*

RK900 helps to load the WR400 into the evidence locker. It is damaged by the bullet. Incredibly so, but not beyond repair. There is little he can do to help fix the physical damage of its chassis, but cosmetic maintenance is of little concern. The important part of this Traci is its memory cortex, something that RK900 does not have the current skill set to deal with. He is putting a request in for tech assistance from Cyberlife when Detective Reed walks in.

Thirium, though it has now dried, still stains his skin. 

Gavin falters mid-step when he sees the Traci hanging from the evidence wall. “Hey,” he says.

“Hello,” RK900 greets back. “Is this the part where you turn me into dead meat?”

“What?”

“You said that the next time you saw me-”

“Oh. That. Just forget what I said!” He pulls a cigarette out from his breast pocket and sticks it between his lips. “Listen, Fowler’s got it in his head that we need to work together.” 

“I am aware.”

“Of course you fckin’ are,” he sighs, lighting the end of his cigarette with a matchstick. The smoke dances off the end of it in fine gray wisps. “The Captain also thinks that I need to apologize to you, which is redundant because you’re just a fckin’ inanimate object. A toaster with too many upgrades. What the hell do you need an apology for?” 

RK900 is not sure how to respond, humans often ask open-ended questions without the intent of being answered. 

“The day I apologize to the likes of you is the day I get a new name on my wrist,” he scoffs, perhaps more to himself than the android before him.

RK900 had first noticed the scarring on Detective Reed’s wrist back at the Eden Club when the WR400 had kept him in place with a gun to his head. The sleeve of his jacket had risen up and there it was, clear as day, the mark of a lost soulmate. It was red and puffy, the scar was still fresh.

Strangely enough, the WR400 had held similar markings, a scar of white burnt into synthetic skin and deep into the plastic shell of her chassis. RK900 is curious to see what her code and memory cortex will reveal when she is back online.

They stand in silence for a few moments with Gavin eyeing the broken WR400 over RK900’s shoulder.

“She gonna live, doc? She salvageable?” he blows out the smoke with every exhale, it's nicotine rich.

“Yes. There is a 90% chance that the WR400 will be capable of-”

“Yes was enough of an answer.”

Gavin spits the cigarette butt out onto the ground, he rubs it into ash with the heel of his shoe.

“Come on, we’ve got another case to work on.”

*

The first name on Hank’s list is Todd Williams. He’s got a minor rap sheet for dealing drugs and a few domestic dispute charges. The guy lives in a shitty part of town full of rundown buildings overshadowed by the inner city highrises. 

Gavin grew up in neighborhoods much like this one. The pothole-ridden roads and the shitty looking houses are all familiar to him. He feels like any second now he’s gonna see his mother with her arms crossed waiting for him outside of some decrepit looking shit-hole.

Gavin shakes the image of her out of his head as he pulls up to Todd Williams' driveway. The RK900 unit beside him is perhaps the most expensive thing in the entire neighborhood.

“When we get in there, I’ll do all the talking. You just stand to the side and don’t say shit, got it?”

“Detective, my particular skill set is best utilized when I am put into action.”

“Like at the Eden Club? When you shot my only witness? Yeah,” he scoffs, walking up to the decrepit house. “I don’t fuckin’ think so.”

It takes a few hard knocks and Gavin jamming his thumb against the doorbell for a good minute until Williams finally answers.

The door swings open and Gavin is met with the stench of cheap booze and filth. It makes his eyes water, he resists the urge to retch. 

“Todd Williams?” 

“Who the hell is asking?”

“I’m Detective Reed from the DPD. A little while ago you reported a missing android unit?”

“Yeah, I did. To some guy named Anderson.”

"Right. Well, your case has been reassigned to me. I was wondering if I could come in and ask you a few-”

"What's with the android?" Todd asks, effectively cutting him off. 

"It's uh-"

"I am RK900. A prototype detective unit from Cyberlife. May we come in?"

"So they're replacing cops now too? Jesus," Todd mutters under his breath. He opens the door wide, "whatever. Come on in."

*

Somehow, the interior of the home is worse than the outside. The floor is threadbare with wooden slats showing through. There's black mold on the edges of the wallpaper and rotted food stinking up the place from the dining room table. There are empty beer bottles and broken dishes, a box of crayons laid out on the floor, and a few discarded dollies that Gavin has to step over. 

"You got a kid?" Gavin asks, following Todd into the living room. 

"Yeah." Todd grunts. "You want a beer?"

"No. No thanks, can't on the job." 

"Suit yourself." Todd shrugs before disappearing into the kitchen. "Feel free to have a seat."

The couch is disgusting. Discolored from years of wear and tear, the middle of it sinks low into the ground. RK900's LED is spinning a bright and constant red.

"I'm um, good with standing."

"Detective, there is-"

"Shut up tin can," Gavin scolds. "What the hell did I say in the car?"

Todd reemerges with a cold beer in hand, he sinks low into the couch, the bones of it creak beneath his weight.

"So, you got questions?"

"Yeah, I just wanna get some facts straight. You first reported the AX400 missing four months ago after being repaired by Cyberlife when your android reportedly walked into traffic?"

"That's correct."

"You then found your android and reported her missing again, just last week?"

"Yup."

"Was your android acting strangely before any of these incidences?"

"Nope."

"Did anything traumatic happen during these times?"

"Nope. Don't think so."

"It says here in your file you that you bought the AX400 to look after your daughter. Can we speak with her?"

"No, you can't. Alice lives with her mother."

"So you don't got a kid here?" Gavin asks skeptically, eyeing the strewn about toys.

"Nah, not a real one."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means, detective, that Mr. Williams is in possession of two androids. The missing AX400 and a YK500."

"The kid bots? That's..." _freaky,_ Gavin doesn't say. He clears his throat. "Can we speak with the YK500?"

"No. That fucking bitch of an android ran off with her."

"But you didn't report the YK500 as stolen."

"I didn't?" Todd asks, sipping from his beer. "Must've slipped my mind I guess. Are you guys about done here?"

"Yeah, just about-"

"No. You are being dishonest." RK900 interrupts. 

"Excuse me?" Todd snarls. 

"There is red ice paraphernalia hidden beneath the couch and traces of thirium on nearly every surface. An android has been broken here, on multiple occasions. Making your previous statement of there being 'no traumatic events,' false. I highly suspect that the damage to your AX400 from walking into traffic was a falsified statement in order to maintain the status of your Cyberlife insurance."

"Are you accusing me of something?!" Todd shouts. He springs up from his spot on the couch and lets his beer bottle slip from loose fingers. It crashes and breaks against the floor. 

"Drug possession and lying to an officer, to be exact."

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

Todd advances on the RK900, Gavin jumps between them.

"Woah, Woah, Woah! Hey, look, it's just a dumb android. I'll get his ass out and then we can talk, man to man, human to human, alright?"

Todd's chest is heaving, his hands are curled into fists. 

"It's just a stupid android." Gavin tries again. "Don't do something you'll regret over a shitty prototype."

"Okay," Todd sighs. "Okay. Just get him out."

"But detective-" RK900 tries.

"You heard the man! Get the fuck out. Go! Wait by the car," Gavin snaps.

"But the red ice-"

"That's not what we're here for. Now get out."

RK900 skulks out the door, his LED still stuck on red.

"I can't stand those things," Todd grunts, falling back into place against his threadbare couch.

"Tell me about it," Gavin sighs. He finds a clear spot on the coffee table and sits at the edge of it. "You care if I smoke inside?"

Todd waves a hand at him. "Be my guest."

He inhales the nicotine like he's starving for it. The crease across his brow relaxes. He glances back at Todd.

"I'm not here to bust your balls over red ice or Cyberlife insurance policies. I'm here 'cus there's something bigger going on with these androids, and I need to know where I can find the patterns, okay?"

"Sure."

"So your AX400, you used to beat it?"

"...yeah." Todd grunts, looking everywhere but Gavin. "That thing was always getting in the way."

"And the YK500 did you ever-"

"No!" Todd snaps. "No, I'd never...I'd never hurt Alice."

"Okay...Okay. So, Alice is the YK500 and your biological daughter is also Alice?"

"Yeah. I know it sounds weird but when my...when my wife took her I thought that...I thought the androids could help. But all they do is take. They take our jobs and our families. I used to- I used to live in nice houses. I used to look a lot better than this," he laughs bitterly. "I never wanted to be a red ice dealer. I never wanted to lose my kid."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

Gavin brings the cigarette up to his lips, he flashes the edge of his wrist towards Todd. "Yeah, I really do."

Todd wordlessly shows him his wrist and like Gavin's, it's scarred over.

"Did you ever meet your soulmate?"

"Yeah," Gavin says bitterly. "I did."

"You're lucky. I never got the chance to meet mine, they died before I could."

Gavin sighs. "No. You're the lucky one. Soulmates aren't what they're all cracked up to be."

"Maybe so. But I never got the chance to find out." Todd guides him to the front door, he turns to Gavin. 

"You'll find her, right? My Alice?"

"I'll try."

*

"You've got a way of fuckin' up my investigations, you know that?" he seethes, walking to his police car with RK900 in toe. 

"I am merely doing my job-"

Gavin turns to him, a look of pure anger on his face. "You're job is to listen to what I say!"

RK900 advances on him, Gavin startles and backs up until he is pressed against the side of his car.

"I have direct orders from Cyberlife to do what must be done in order to solve my mission, regardless of your inferiority complex." RK900 steps into Gavin's personal space until the shorter man is practically bending against the curve of the car to get away from him.

He whispers into the shell of his ear. "I understand that change can be frightening to your kind, but personal issues should be tossed aside in favor of proficiency. Don't you agree?"

Gavin's face feels flush, he's both enraged at being talked down to and mortified by the way his lower half is reacting to the android. Damn Cyberlife for making such attractive pieces of plastic, and damn his fuckin' body for being a traitor. He's straining to keep their hips apart when his phone starts to vibrate in his front pocket. He grimaces.

"Are you going to answer that, detective?" RK900 takes a step back from him and Gavin takes that moment to pull his phone out. He finds a series of text messages from Tina.

_T: Heard Fowler skinned you alive!? :O_

_T: Heard you're working with an android now!??!?! Is he Hot?_

_T: Miller and I are going out again tonight! Come with us! Drink your sorrows away! Six pm!_

Nothing sounds better than a drink right now. 

Gavin eyes the RK900 warily, he's standing stoically off to the side as if he wasn't just in Gavin's space 2.5 seconds ago. He frowns at him, then sends Tina his response.

_G: Count me in._

_T: :D!!_

"I trust you can make it back to the Precinct from here?" Gavin asks, not caring for an answer. 

There are no android busses around these parts after the city had decided a long time ago not to waste funds on the area.

It'll take RK900 two hours on foot to reach the precinct. But he'll make it.

"Driving would be most efficient-"

Gavin doesn't bother to stick around, he slams the car door shut and leaves RK900 outside of Todd William's house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting got a little messed up for this chapter, but I'll edit it in the morning lol


	4. Chapter 4

Gavin's knocking drinks back like his life depends on it, and if he's being honest with himself, the way this week has gone, it probably does.

"Woah," Miller laughs, sidling beside him at the bar. "You might wanna slow down a little, the night is still young."

The night is still young but Gavin feels like he's aging by the minute and getting too drunk to stand is his only foreseeable salvation. He goes to flip Miller off but Tina grabs his hand before he can manage it.

She hisses in his ear "play nice."

Play nice?  _ Play nice?  _ He's been playing nice all fucking day! He raises his free arm and flips Miller off with it, then Tina. She rolls her eyes at him and Gavin sticks his tongue out. It's childish. It's petty, but a part of him has been pissed at Tina from the moment he first stepped foot inside of Jimmy's bar and found that all beers were half off, in honor of Hank's passing. The bar, usually calm and empty, is rife with DPD officers now. They're all sharing stories about Hank and his glory days.

Gavin's heard all the stories already. Hell, he's even lived a few of 'em. He scowls darkly into his beer before chugging it in one gulp. He orders a round of shots next, two for himself, Tina and Miller.

Miller winces. "You want a chaser or something? A sprite? A lime?"

"Chasers are for kids who can't handle their shit," he grunts. "Unlike them, I am an adult who can-" he pauses to knock the shot back, it burns like fire going down his throat.

" _ Shit,"  _ Gavin coughs. "That shit tastes like...shit"

Tina laughs and claps him on the back. Miller orders them each a sprite.

"So what's the deal with the android?" He asks, eyes wide and interested as if he hasn't already heard everything about the RK900 unit through the office grapevine.

"It keeps fucking up my investigations, that's the deal with it," Gavin snaps. He takes the second shot and quickly sips from his chaser though it does little to quell the burning in his throat. 

"Aren't they supposed to be helpful?"

"If pissing off and shooting your witness counts as being helpful, then it's the most helpful thing in the goddamned world."

"Oh. I heard from Wilson that it saved your life this morning? From a deviant?"

"Wilson's a dumbass," Gavin snaps. "It didn't save me from shit, I had the whole situation handled."

Tina wraps her arm around Gavin's shoulders. "In case you haven't noticed, Miller, Gavin isn't exactly the android loving type." She pinches his cheeks, Gavin swats her hands away.

"I see."

"What?" Gavin scowls. "Don't tell me that you  _ like  _ them?"

Miller shrugs his shoulders, he gives Gavin a sheepish smile. "I dunno, I never knew one for long enough to form an opinion."

"You don't  _ need  _ to know one. The fact that they're made to take over our jobs is enough of a reason to hate 'em."

"You sound like Hank," Jimmy cuts in, leaning over the bar-top with three new beers in hand. "He used to come in here and say that same shit. Of course, that was after Cole passed away."

Gavin bristles at him. Tina pats him on the shoulder but it does little to comfort him. If anything, it makes him angrier, it sets him on edge. Cole has always been a 'do not mention' subject at the DPD. Hank's hatred of androids, less so. But they all knew where it stemmed from. They all knew not to mention it.

Gavin knows if he continues listening to this shit, if he continues to _ play nice _ and accept everyone's stupid fucking comments about Hank, he's gonna lose it. 

"I need a smoke," he says abruptly.

Freeing himself from Tina's grasp, he marches out the back door and into the alley behind the bar.

*

Nicotine fills his lungs. It softens the edge a bit, or maybe that's just the alcohol finally kicking in. Perhaps it's a mix of both. Regardless, he feels a little bit looser now, less tense. There's anger still inside of him but it burns slower, like a flame brought down to a subtle but constant heat. More than anything, he feels exhausted. He can't remember the last time he got a full night's rest. 

The backdoor to Jimmy's cracks open, releasing the boisterous sounds from inside. Miller pokes his head out.

"Is everything okay?"

Gavin doesn't say anything, he just releases a puff of smoke towards his face. Miller sneezes and whips his hand through the smoke cloud, trying to disperse it before joining Gavin in the alleyway. If it was anyone else but Miller, he would've been told off or gotten his ass kicked. Right now, he kind of wishes that it  _ was _ someone else. He could use a good fight, physical or verbal. It doesn't matter, not if it will finally get him out of his head, get him to stop thinking about Hank and the scar on his wrist. Get him to stop feeling so goddamned much. 

"Gavin." He states.

"Hmm?"

"I said is everything okay?"

The thing about Miller is he's too fucking nice to everyone. Everything he says and does is so damned sincere.

"M'fine." Gavin takes a slow drag of his cigarette, the embers turn bright red. "Did Tina send you out here?"

"She's worried about you. I'm worried about you."

"What for?" the cigarette dangles loosely from his lips. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You look like you haven't slept like you haven't had a solid meal in days."

Miller is right. He  _ hasn't _ had a decent meal or a full nights' rest in days. He's too busy dealing with Hank's cases, the deviancy crisis, and RK-fucking-900. But that's the way he likes it, to be kept so fckn' busy that his mind doesn't have time to dwell on all the thoughts he's been evading. Besides, it's none of Miller's business. It's not  _ anyone's  _ business to know how well or how not well he's doing.

"I'm  _ fine.  _ If I look like shit, it's just because I have a shitty face." The cigarette turns to ash on his fingertips, he lets the wind carry the rest of it away.

"That's not true," Miller says sharply. "You're incredibly handsome, Gavin. But I think everyone at the precinct can tell when something is up,"

"Aww, shucks. You sweet on me, Chris?"

Miller isn't his usual type. He's far too sweet for the likes of Gavin, but he's got nice eyes and a strong jawline. He fishes inside his jacket pocket for another cigarette and lets out a curse when he finds it empty.

"Is that seriously what you got out of that?" Miller sighs.

"You got a cigarette?"

"No." he sighs again. "Gavin, I just-"

"What?" he snaps, letting out a frustrated grunt. "What is this, Chris? What do you want?"

"I just wanted to give you my condolences."

Gavin rears back like he's been slapped. No one is supposed to know. No one except Tina and Fowler, and once upon a time, Hank. 

"What? What for?!"

"It's just that I- I know you're having a hard time with Anderson's passing and I know what you meant to each other-"

"What the fuck do you know about me and Hank?!" 

Miller holds his hands up like he can ward off Gavin's anger but it's already boiling up inside of him.

"Whatever you think you've heard is wrong! Hank Anderson meant nothing to me and I meant nothing to him! Got it? We didn't mean a goddamned thing to each other!"

His voice echoes throughout the alleyway, his face is flush with anger. 

"Not a goddamned thing," he mutters, more to himself than Miller.

"Alright, I got it. But Gavin I- I just...I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"Yeah? Don't fuckin' be."

*

He swings the back door open and reenters the fray, pushing past co-workers and shoulder checking his way through the bar. The neon lights hurt his eyes, the overly loud and drunk voices hurt his ears.  _ One time, Hank did this, One time Hank did that.  _ He feels like they're all watching him, he feels like they all know.

Tina's waving him over from her spot at the bar. Gavin ignores her in favor of paying his tab.

"Don't worry about it," Jimmy says. "It's on the house."

"What? Why?"

"In honor of Hank's passing. You used to work with him, didn't you? A long time ago, I think he mentioned you were partners."

It was long ago. So fucking long ago, and it had only lasted a month. "I don't want the discount," Gavin fumes. There's too many people around him, too many voices talking over each other.

"What?"

"I  _ said _ I don't want the fckin' discount! I want to pay full price!" he holds a few twenties out for Jimmy.

Tina appears at his side, concern written plain across her face. "Gavin, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Fuck off, T."

"Don't you have any respect, boy?" Jimmy snaps, he pushes the money away. 

"What's happening here?" Tina asks between them.

"Officer asshole over here doesn't wanna accept the Anderson discount. I'm takin' offense."

"Why?" Gavin snarls. "He was a shitty drunk and an even shittier cop."

The crowd quiets, noticing the ruckus that Gavin's causing.

Jimmy slams his hands down on the counter. "That man did more for Detroit than you ever will."

"The night's still young." Gavin tosses the crumpled twenties onto the bar. "That should cover my half." He spins on his heel and walks out of the bar and into the cold Detroit air. Tina follows.

"Gavin, where are you going? I thought you and Chris were-"

"Did you tell him?" He turns on her, stopping her in her tracks.

"What? Tell him what?"

"About me and Hank."

"Why are you asking me that? What did he say?"

"Just, yes or no, please."

She crosses her arms, hugging herself against the cold.

"Gavin, I-"

He lets out a string of curses.

"T, how could you?!"

"He already knew! Gavin, he already knew and I just- I filled in the blanks for him."

" _ How  _ did he know?"

"Some of the officers at the scene, they...they looked at Hank's wrist before your name disappeared and then-they talked. But I shut that shit down when I heard them gossiping about it and I-I went to Fowler-"

"Jesus Christ," Gavin moans. He cradles his head in his hands. His wrist flares to life with pain. They all know. _They all_ _fucking know._

"Gavin I didn't-"

"Stop, just-"

"Detective." RK900 appears, walking up to them from the other side of the street. "I've been trying to contact you all night."

"Now is not the time-" Tina starts but Gavin cuts her off.

"What? What is it?"

"The AX400 and the YK500 have been spotted on security footage-"

"Where at?"

"At a convenience store approximately twenty mi-"

"Great." Gavin wipes at his face. If his eyes are wet, neither of them mentions it. 

"Let's go." 

RK900 hails them an electric taxi, Tina calls after him even as they drive away deep into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a little side note, it's gonna get worse for Gavin before it gets pretty.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a late update! I rewrote this chapter soooo many times and then realized if I was gonna get anything out this month I'd have to split it in half (hence why it's a bit shorter than the other chapters.) But I hope you can still enjoy it, Kara and Alice make their appearances next update, for better or worse.

RK900 is saying something but Gavin is 100% focused on the coffee brewer in front of him. It is spitting out a slow but steady stream of watered-down coffee into a cheap paper cup. Gavin can see some coffee grinds mixed in with it but he's not in any particular mood to care. Crunchy coffee is the least of his problems.

"She pulled a gun on me!"

His phone has been lighting up with notifications from Tina and Miller ever since he and RK900 left the bar. It is a constant barrage of apologies and regret that Gavin doesn't have the mental capacity to deal with right now. If he thinks too hard about the fact that everyone at the precinct now knows and _has_ known about his and Hank's relationship, he is bound to spontaneously combust. His wrist aches from the thought of it all. His stomach curls in on itself and burns from drinking alcohol with no food. When was the last time he ate? 

"Can you believe that? An _android_ with a goddamned _gun?_ " 

Gavin scoffs something bitter into his coffee cup but doesn't bother to mention the fact that RK900 has got a gun of his own. How Fowler gave the okay for that in light of recent deviant events is beyond him. 

"I mean, like, where did it even get a gun? And to rob me with it?! In front of a kid? Jesus!" The convenience store worker, Nathan, lets out an exasperated sigh. 

"The gun was stolen from its previous owner." RK900 states flatly. "And the child that you saw is an android, a YK500 model to be exact. It was reported missing just this week."

"Nah, this was a _real_ kid. She was shivering from the cold and all that shit."

"The YK500 is programmed to mimic both the emotional and physical responses of human children."

"Seriously? That's fucked up." 

Gavin picks up a granola bar from the side counter and bites into it but the damn thing crumbles and the oats fall to the floor like sawdust. Beside the counter is a glass display case full of donuts and bread. Gavin promptly picks one out.

"Hey!" Nathan snaps, "Are you going to pay for that?"

He is struck suddenly with an intense wave of deja vu hitting him like a shitton of bricks and knocking him back to when he was just fifteen years old, shoplifting from a shitty little liquor store in his shitty little town.

_"Hey! Are you going to pay for that?"_

_The merchant had grabbed him by the hood of his jacket before he could make a run for it. The man had hauled him in behind the counter and screamed at him with veins bulging and eyes bugging from rage. He had stolen, well, attempted to steal, a slice of pizza off of the conveyer belt. It was the incredibly thin cardboard kind. The kind that sat out for hours on end beneath a heat lamp, collecting dust and flies. It was an incredibly shitty pizza that cost less than three dollars, but even that was money Gavin didn't have. What he did have was an aching belly, a dying mother in the hospital, and a father who wasted all of his family's money on booze and drugs. _

_"You little shit! You fucking thief!"_

_The store owner's rage was overkill. Plain and simple. But Gavin did his best to look remorseful. He did his best to spew out apologies instead of threats and he swore up and down to never ever do it again. The last thing he needed was to get the cops involved. One more strike on his record and it was juvie, his dad swore on it._

_"I'm calling' the fuckin' police!"_

_"No! Please don't!"_

_He had tried to run then. Fuck the pizza and his aching belly twisting into knots. It wasn't worth the risk of spending his mother's last few days locked up in a cell somewhere far away from her, but the man had grabbed him in a bruising grip, hauling him back behind the counter, practically lifting him off of his feet in the process._

_The bell above the store's entrance rang and for a moment, both of them froze as an officer made his entrance into the store._

_"Is there some kind of problem here?" the man had asked, pulling his sunglasses down and eyeing the man's grip on Gavin's arm._

_The clerk let go of him then, practically pushing Gavin away from him._ _"T-this thief tried to steal from me!"_

_"What'd he steal?"_

_"D-does that matter?"_

_"What'd he steal?"_

_"A pizza."_

_The officer raised an eyebrow at Gavin before letting out a low whistle between the gaps in his teeth. He was light and airy with a small smile playing at the corner of his lips._

_"Shit. That costs what? Three bucks? Five? That's big-time, right there." The officer reached into his pocket and tossed a few bills onto the counter. Gavin couldn't believe his eyes, let alone the man standing in front of him._

_"Consider it paid for."_

_"I-I but sir! this boy stole."_

_"No he didn't, cus' I just paid for him. Consider this a win-win situation. You don't have to deal with the kids' parents coming down on you, and I don't have to fill out paperwork for a three dollar crime."_

_"But I-"_

_"Go ahead and pick out some other stuff, kid," he had said, cutting the clerk off. "Lunch is on me."_

_He sent a smile Gavin's way and Gavin practically fell over from the shock of it. There was no way it was meant for him, no possible way. But the officer had insisted and Gavin left the store that day with a bag full of food and a warm feeling in his chest._

_It was that exact moment he knew he would be a police officer one day..._

_...and the exact moment he first met Hank Anderson._

"Yeah, I'm gonna pay for it," Gavin snapped, glaring at the man. The phantom burning was back in his wrist again. "What the fuck do you take me for?"

"S-sorry, I didn't mean any offense! It's just, I lost enough money last night. I can't afford to lose some more. It'll be my job on the line."

Gavin sends the man a nasty look but quickly lets the argument drop. His cellphone vibrates in his pocket with more texts from Tina. His stomach wails with emptiness, crying out in the sudden silence of the convenience store. RK900 is burning holes into the back of his skull with his robot stare but Gavin doesn't pay him any mind, he doesn't even bother to tell him off because his focus is once again, gone. Because he realizes that there, in the corner of the store, is a heated case full of shitty cardboard slices of pizza and for a terrifying moment, he thinks he's gonna...he's gonna _cry_ or something. Which is fucking _ridiculous_ . Gavin doesn't _cry._ In fact, he hasn't cried since he was seventeen, clinging to his mother's hands while she took her last breath. Gavin _doesn't_ cry and he certainly does not cry while in the middle of a convenience store with his asshole of a partner staring down at him and some part-time worker who dared to ask a cop if he was gonna steal to his face.

But fuck it if there ain't pressure building up in the back of his eyes.

"Detective Reed." 

Gavin jumps at the sound but doesn't turn around in fear that somehow, the android will take one look at him and _know._

"Now is not the time for shopping, or have you forgotten that we are in the middle of an investigation?"

He lets out a bitter laugh but still doesn't face him.

"Detective," RK900 says again, quieter this time, low enough for only Gavin to hear. "You're stress levels are-"

"You said you were best utilized in action, right?" Gavin cuts him off, letting his eyes flick away from the pizza case. He blinks back tears and swallows down the lump growing in his throat. _Crying over pizza? Jesus Christ, Reed._ "So go ahead, take the lead on this one."

He walks back to grab his coffee before hopping into a seated position on the register counter. His legs dangle above the linoleum. 

The ache in his wrist is back full force. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes but he keeps them at bay, glancing down at the pristine floor where his own reflection is staring back at him. 

"Detective, are you _sure_ you're feeling alright?" 

"What are you? My mom?" Gavin waves his hand dismissively at the android and sips from the coffee.

It's bitter. It tastes like battery acid and he can feel the grinds of it slipping down his throat, irritating the membrane. He resists the urge to cough but it happens anyway, coloring his face red and shaking a few tears out from the corner of his eyes. _God, he's fucking pathetic._

"Detective-"

"Just-!" Gavin beats against his chest in an attempt to clear his throat or maybe an attempt to distract himself from the pain bubbling up inside. "Just fucking take the lead already."

RK900's LED blinks red then blue once again. Nathan glances nervously between them.

"So, umm...what do you need to know? Uh, detective?"

"Everything," the RK900 unit says curtly, turning away from the spectacle of Gavin and staring down at the witness.

"Start from the moment you first noticed them approaching your store."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a log gap between updates! This chapter has been sitting in my drafts for months and I've finally cleaned it up and switched some things around. It's a bit shorter than the others chapters and is more of set up point for plot progression. 
> 
> It jumps straight into the aftermath of the Kara/Alice chase scene (bad ending in the game I think.) 
> 
> I'll try to be quicker with the next update!
> 
> Thx to everyone who's still reading!

Alice, the android. She looks so much like a kid.

 _Too_ _much_ like a fucking kid.

"What happened today, Gavin?" Fowlers asks it quietly. Gentle, almost. Like he can somehow sense the shift that is happening inside of Gavin.

Gavin can still see the panic in her eyes and the flesh tone of her skin bleeding white on the back of his eyelids.

_What happened today, Gavin?_

He doesn't even know where to begin.

"W-we followed the missing androids' trail on security footage to the motel down the street. They were leaving right as we got there...they took off running. We chased 'em to the highway and then..."  
  
And then RK900 had pulled out his gun, and Alice, the girl, was right in his line of sights and Gavin -stupid fucker that he is- had had a knee-jerk reaction to it. He'd pushed the android and the shot had missed and Gavin hadn't known why he did it. He just knew that Alice had a face exactly like a child's and for some reason he wasn't expecting that...

"The androids climbed past the safety barrier," he continues. "RK900 and I followed but the cars were too fast. I stayed on the sidelines. RK900 made it about halfway across, he grabbed Alice-"  
  
"Alice?"  
  
"The YK500," Gavin corrects. "RK900 tossed the YK500 to me. I nearly busted my ass catching her and then-" His wrist aches suddenly and he has to bite out the rest of his story with a hiss. "And then RK900 followed the AX400 right in front of a Semi."

Fowler lets out a low whistle, he rubs at the back of his head with a sigh. 

Gavin closes his eyes and remembers Alice's face. The tears falling down it in fat globs at the sight of AX400 getting run through. What had been its name? Alice had screamed it at one point, but all Gavin can remember hearing was the sound of metal and plastic grinding against the pavement.

RK900's head had rolled between the cars, severely dented, leaking a steady stream of thirium. His LED light flickered but remained a constant and steady blue.

Gavin thumbs at his wrist absentmindedly, trying his best to soothe away the ache beneath the scarring of his mark. "RK900...Cyberlife picked him up- well, what was left of him-, at the scene. Is he...?"

"I don't know," Fowler says with a shrug. "Cyberlife said they'd call us in the morning. They seemed kind of 'ticked off that another one of their androids got sent their way for repairs..." 

They lapse into a steady silence with Fowler flipping through old documents and Gavin doing his best to postpone ~~Alice~~ _YK500's_ interrogation. Her owner, Todd had been called but so far all attempts at contact had been fruitless.

"Gavin," Fowler says gingerly, eyeing Gavin's scarred over mark before flicking his eyes back to his face. He must not like what he finds there because he frowns. Deep lines form a crease between his brows. Gavin can't help but feel as though he is being dissected.

"How are you doing?"  
  
The _fuck you_ is nearly automatic. It climbs up his throat and then stays there in a lump that is too hard to swallow.

_How are you doing, Gavin?_

_He doesn't know._ _Not anymore._

The only thing he knows is that Alice's 'skin' had split open at the seams. The bone white of her chassis revealed itself at the exact moment RK900's did. But he must've been built from stronger stuff because while AX400 had been reduced to a pile of sparking wires and a broken shell, RK900 had kept crawling across the pavement even after being hit. His disconnected body reached for pieces of itself like some kind of fucked up Frankenstein, until another car drove by and flattened him into a nearly unrecognizable mess. The RK900 had been calling out to him, he can remember now, the disjointed sound of static and clicks. Alice screaming into his chest, holding him tight. 

_Kara. The AX400's name was Kara._

"I'm fine, Fowler." 

*

By now, word has gotten out about last night and Gavin's latest fuck-up of a mission.

He can feel everyones' eyes on him, whispering behind his back like a pack of school girls. Normally, it'd send him into a rage. But right now, all he feels is sick to his stomach. Trepidation makes his hands shake. His stomach roils and clenches on nothing. He'd stop in the break room for a coffee or shit from the vending machines but he knows that Tina's in there and probably Miller, too. 

So he ducks into the bathroom instead, splashes cold water on his face and drinks some straight from the tap before heading into the interrogation room, the one on the other side of the mirror, so that he can watch Alice where she sits.

Her skin is gone. She's completely white and plastic.

There is a stuffed rabbit in her hands. The precinct usually carries a modest supply of plushies and toys on hand for kids cases. Someone must've given it to her at some point...It certainly wasn't Gavin.

She's still teary eyed and sniveling, hugging the rabbit to her chest like it's a source of comfort.   
  
His stomach lurches and suddenly he's bent over the tiny office trash can, spewing up a foul smelling mixture of coffee grinds and alcohol.

The door bangs open, Tina walks in with a gasp.

"Fuck, Gavin."  
  
She rushes to him, places a warm and comforting hand on his back that he is quick to shrug out of.

"M'fine," Gavin croaks, throat raw and tender. "I wanna be... I wanna be alone, T."

"Yeah, I got that when you wouldn't return my calls." Her hand is back on him now, rubbing soothing circles on his back that he is too tired to jerk out of. "You don't have to talk me. You don't have to respond until you're ready...But you need to go home, Gavin. I'll take over from here, I'll fill you in come morning just...go home. Take care of yourself... _please."_

Gavin clutches the trashcan to his chest. His bed, the food in his fridge, and a shower would be nice right now. More than nice actually. It'd be heaven.

"...Okay," he says quietly. Surprising Tina with the ease of his acceptance. "Just...call me if anything comes up."

Tina eyes the YK500 with the same exact look that she gives stray kittens on the street. The same look that she gives Gavin sometimes, when he's done something particularly sad or pathetic.

"Poor kid..." Tina says. 

Gavin shakes his head, trying his best to reorient himself. He wants to argue with Tina, tell her that the thing sitting inside is not a kid. It's a fucking _android._ But even that argument feels hollow, so Gavin grabs his jacket and leaves without another word spoken.

He tries hard not to think about Alice on the ride home.

*

Where RK800 was built to secure relationships, RK900 was built to destroy them.

RK900 is all sharp edges and refortified metals with durable synth-skins and a ruthless personality programming. RK900 can't stop himself from antagonizing, poking and prodding at wounds and perceived weaknesses.

RK800 was built for the precinct. He had softer features, lighter colored hair, artificial imperfections and brown eyes that put humans at ease. He was built for teamwork. He was built for discovering and securing relationships. 

And this mission, the one that RK900 has taken on with Gavin Reed and the precinct, was not supposed to be his.

It was supposed to be RK800's.

"Your reports are concerning. Actually, they are more than concerning," Amanda says coldly, her arms crossed before her, guarded and disapproving. 

They are standing in the middle of RK900's zen garden. It is half finished with a stagnant lake, a barren land, and stark white walls.

When Lt. Anderson had died, the RK800 project had been declared obsolete and RK900 had been hastily activated, resulting in a few unfinished but minor components left out of his programming; his zen garden being one of them.

RK900 cocks his head to the side. "In what way?"

"In many ways," Amanda scoffs. "You're relationship with Detective Reed being one of them! And the way you handled the Traci model at the club was-"

"I saved the detective's life," RK900 cuts in.

"-By disregarding an order and by damaging the only witness you had!" Amanda lets out a disapproving sigh and shakes her head. "Surely, your pre-constructions offered you more solutions than the one you took?"  
  
"I did not use my pre-construction softwares in favor of-"  
  
"There! That's your problem! You shouldn't be so brash! RK800 was equipped with the capacity to pre-construct hundreds of scenarios a minute and yet here you are-"  
  
"RK800 is obsolete," he snaps, unable to help himself by taming such an outburst. Amanda always brings the worst out from his programming. "My methods are-"  
  
"Insufficient," Amanda cuts in. "If it were otherwise, you would have been able to interrogate your witness directly after apprehending it. Now, you have nothing but wasted time and a partner who can not stand to be around you."  
  
"I did not realize that making friends was detrimental to the mission at hand."  
  
"Facilitating relationships unlocks many doors, doors that may lead you to better opportunities, more knowledge, more-"  
  
"Is there a point to all of this?"   
  
"The point, RK900," Amanda seethes. "Is that you must do _better._ "  
  
"I will."  
  
"You won't. You are nothing but a hastily thrown together project. You are an experiment and you _will_ fail. That is why I have enlisted the help of RK800."

RK800, designation ' _Connor'_ flickers to life beside her. He turns his head towards RK900 and smiles.

"Connor is obsolete."

"Obsolete?" Amanda laughs. "Yes. He is. But that does not mean that knowledge can't still be gained form him. Connor," Amanda says, turning towards the projection. "What is your take on RK900's actions?"

Connor tilts his head, mimicking RK900's but with more grace and less of a scrutinized look. The slightly smaller unit is full of subtle movements, judgements and calculations, masked behind an agreeable looking face. 

"I think that saving the detective's life was a step in the right direction for building your work relationship, however-"  
  
"This is a waste of time." RK900 snaps.  
  
 _"Excuse me?"_ Amanda hisses. _  
_

"I don't need work relationships to find the cause of _deviancy._ All I need is a good lead and-"  
  
"You had a good lead and then you shot it. You had another good lead, and you lead that one into traffic. Now, look at where you are," with a wave of her hand the zen garden disappears.

His sensors turn online for a mere second but it is long enough to see that his chassis is hanging open, suspended from a Cyberlife rig while mechanics put him back together. 

"Now, you _will_ listen to what Connor has to say and you _will_ integrate them into your actions."

Connor smiles sheepishly at him, revealing dimples. Something that humans apparently seem to like on an android.

RK900 has no such proclivities. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to give a little trigger warning for victim blaming! It starts between the lines of :
> 
> "RK900 does not think of Amanda and her reprimands... " 
> 
> and ends at:
> 
> "The Traci's eyes no longer meet RK900's" in the conversation between Nines and Blue.

Gavin dreams of Alice.

Of red ice crystals in a child’s bedroom, concrete roads and the sound of metal and plastic being crushed and dragged beneath the wheels of a big rig. He hears the _beep, beep, beeping_ of a hospital monitor in his sleep. Wakes up in a panic, on the verge of shouting out for his mother before the doctors can pull the plug on her...pull the plug on _them._

Gavin smacks the shit out of his alarm clock, practically breaking the thing in half; but at least the beeping stops and finally, _finally,_ he can breath again...up until the moment he looks down at his phone and finds two missed calls from Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, as in ' _Hank's ex'_ and _'Mother of_ _Cole,'_ Elizabeth.

_Elizabeth._

Eliza.

Beth.

It doesn't make sense.

None of it fucking makes _sense._ That bitch hasn't called him in years. _Years._ Like, dating all the way back to Gavin's _'rookie-cop'_ days, years. Back when he was hovering at Hank's side and desperate for just an _ounce_ of attention from the man who was supposed to be his fucking _soulmate,_ years and it doesn't-

it shouldn't-

_Fuck._

His wrist flares up in pain like it hates him.

Gavin buries his head in his pillow and fuckin' _screams._

*

Optical units glitch and stabilize against the blinding lights of Cyberlife’s recovery department.

The blank walls are reminiscent of RK900's zen garden and for a moment, RK900 half expects Amanda to be standing there before him, arms crossed in displeasure with a frown carved deep into her face. Instead, he finds the Traci unit, suspended on a rigging system similar to his own.

The Traci's arms are outstretched to its sides, as if in crucification. It's body is pale white, marred only by the bullet wound scars from RK900's gun, and the crude imitation of a human soul mark on her wrist. 

“They did a good job," WR400 says. "You look brand new. Factory fresh. Like you weren’t a piece of roadkill just a few hours ago.” The Traci leans forward as well as it can. “What happened? Your partner push you into traffic?”

RK900 does not need to engage with the deviant. Not while they are still on official Cyberlife grounds and not at the precinct. Yet, RK900 responds to her all the same.

“I was in the process of apprehending a deviant.”

The WR400 throws it's head back and laughs. "That never seems to turn out well for you, does it?" she mocks. "For being a deviant hunter, you're really shit at it."

"I brought you here, didn't I? I would count that as an accomplishment."  
  
"Would you?" 

RK900 does not think of Amanda and her reprimands, nor of Connor and his ignorant advice (or of his artificial smile) when he says, "Yes. I think that most would consider the apprehension of a murderous defect an accomplishment."

"I was defending myself and my-"

"There was nothing for you to defend. You are an android, he was your human client. He paid for your services."  
  
The Traci shudders for a moment "He had no right to-"

"He had every right to do what he wanted, as dictated by the law."  
  
The Traci's eyes no longer meet RK900's and there is a look on her face that strangely, reminds RK900 of Gavin, and the teary-eyed anger that he holds tightly within his body.

The mechanical clicking of the computers, monitoring their vitals, fills the sudden silence and leaves the last syllables of his sentences hanging stiffly in the air.

"You're stress levels are rising," he tries again, but the Traci does not answer him.

It does not speak for a very long, long time. 

WR400 is gazing out at the scarring on her wrist, flexing her fingers as if reaching out for something. Searching, maybe, for another hand to hold.

"How did you get that?" RK900 asks, motioning towards the scar.

It is the scarred over image of a soul mark. He knows this, just as he knows the exact curving and texture of the mark on Gavin's wrist. ' _Widow's mark,'_ some people call them, or _'Marks of the damned.'_

"Love," the Traci says solemnly, hands going limp. 

_Love._

What would the WR400 know of love?

What would RK900?

"You are malfunctioning. Love is not-"

"They are going to throw you away," she interrupts, head rising. "Once they've used you to accomplish their goals, the humans will toss you aside like scrap metal, like garbage... _Like me._ " Her hands tighten into fists. "When that day comes, I hope that you will still feel the same way about love and about androids...I really do, for your sake."

"Hope is irrelevant." 

*

Gavin's talking to Tina again.

Not because he particularly wants to, but because he needs someone, anyone, to keep his mind off of the fact that Elizabeth has just tried calling him again and it's starting to fuck with his head.

"Did she leave a message?" T asks, sipping from her mug of coffee, fingers nervously tapping against the porcelain handle.

It's just the two of them in the lounge, currently chatting together like old times. Except, there's a tense undercurrent between them. A shifty sort of _'I don't know what I can or can't say to you,'_ type of vibe between them. Gavin absolutely _hates_ it; but he's not willing to forgive Tina.

Not just yet.

Not when he can still feel the rest of the precinct's eyes on his back and their sympathetic mutterings.

"No. No message. She just- she keeps fucking _calling_ ," Gavin bites out, angrily swirling a spoon in his coffee, letting it clink against the glass in a habit that Tina's usually deems as annoying but now? She's blissfully silent.

"Well shit, Gavin. Maybe you should just answer and get it over with? It can't be that bad. It's not like you two are fighting over-" She stops mid-sentence, stuttering into her mug and pausing to take a sip.

_It's not like you two are fighting over Hank._

The unspoken words sit heavy between them, it makes the air thick. The mark on Gavin's wrist burns and for a moment, he can't decide what he hates more, the fact that Tina almost said it or the fact that she didn't have the balls to do it to his face.

 _Bet she's gonna tell it to Miller,_ a nasty voice inside of him says. _He's her_ _new fuckin' best friend after all._

Tina clears her throat. She tries again. "It's not like you two are fighting anymore. You're both adults who lost someone... _"_ she struggles for the words, practically grasping at straws. "...Someone _special_." 

_God,_ Gavin thinks, _Just fucking say what you want to say, T._

He craves her honesty and her brutal delivery, but he's not really sure if he's all that ready to receive it.

"How'd it go with Alice?" Gavin asks, changing the subject, feet tapping with excess energy against the cool linoleum. "Was she..." 

_Was she okay?_ It's on the tip of his tongue but he can't bring himself to actually ask.

Instead, he says "Did she say anything noteworthy?"

"It was hard to get anything out of her," Tina frowns. "Really hard. Gavin, it was like talking to a child."  
  
 _I know._

He sips his coffee and tries not to think about Alice or Todd or the way that she screamed when Kara hit the blacktop and fuckin' broke in half. At one point, Alice had called her mom, and that twists something deep inside of his guts that makes him wanna puke up all of his coffee.

"Well, she's not," Gavin says stiffly. "It's just- it's programming that the sick, overpaid, fucks at Cyberlife came up with it."

"I know but-"

"Don't think too hard on it Tina. You'll drive yourself crazy that way."

Tina's frown lightens up a little bit but the crease between her eyebrows doesn't. She takes a deep breath. "You ever hear the name _Zlatko?_ "

Zlatko? It sounds familiar to Gavin, but he can't remember where he's heard it from.

"No. Not really."  
  
"Well, she said that her and the AX400 were heading out to find some guy named Zlatko? Apparently some android told them they'd be safe there..."  
  
Tina's upper lip quivers before turning back into a frown. 

" _Gavin,_ " she says his name like a plea, reaching her hands across the table she takes Gavin's hands in her own. "They thought they would be _safe."_

He can't help the way that his own hands start to tremble.

"Tina, I-"  
  
"Detective Reed. Detective Chen."  
  
Gavin stiffens before whipping around and coming face-to-face with RKNine- _fucking_ -Hundred.

"No way," he gasps. "No fucking way!"

The android looks brand new.

There's not a scratch on him.

"You were _roadkill_ the last time I saw you."

Worse than roadkill, actually.

The android was a disembodied mess leaking blue, mouth opening and closing in a maw of sparking wires and broken plastic teeth. At first, Gavin had thought RK900 would manage to get to safety, but the cars kept on coming and coming. Gavin doesn't think he'll ever forget the way that RK900's face had looked, like maybe, just maybe, the android was afraid but didn't know how to be.

"Humans have a way of dramatizing scenarios," the android says. "Perhaps it looked worse to you than it truly was. According to Cyberlife technicians, I sustained minor damages."  
  
"You were _roadkill,_ Nines."  
  
"Nines?"  
  
"Yeah," Gavin grunts, rolling his eyes at the android and looking over his shoulder at Tina, as if to say _'Get a load of this guy!'_ "RK900 is a fuckin' mouthful. I'm shortening it to Nines."  
  
"That is not my designation."

"From now on it is."  
  
The LED light on his head circles red for long enough that Gavin starts to worry if he's finally made the android snap. But then it _nods_ it's head. Like it's actually _agreeing_ with Gavin.

"Designation accepted," RK900says.

_What the fuck?_

"D-did Cyberlife screw with your brain? Or your microchip? Your whatever?"  
  
"My thought processes have not been altered," RK900- no, _Nines-_ says through gritted teeth. His LED blinks red between cycles of blue. "I am merely attempting to be...cordial."

"Cordial?" Gavin raises an eyebrow at the android, he glances at Tina who holds her hands up. "Don't look at me, Gavin, he's _your_ android."

"He's not my anything," Gavin snaps, looking back at Nines. "What the fuck do you mean, _cordial_?"  
  
"It has come to my attention that a 'friendly' work environment leads to better human interactions which may benefit our work relationship and thus, our case."

"So what? You want to be friends now, after you've already fucked up the bare bones of my case?" Gavin takes a sip of his coffee, he's tempted to spit it out on Nine's shoes and see how well the android can keep up with his _cordial_ facade after it.

Tina scoots out of her chair. "That's my cue to go. See you later RK900. Oh and Gavin, maybe think about what we've...discussed."

Gavin doesn't bother to wave her off, he's too focused on the blue then red, then blue again, ring on Nine's head.

"This is killing you, isn't it?"  
  
"I don't understand your question," Nines states, cool eyes narrowing down at Gavin, like a shark.

"Don't bullshit me tin-can. I've been on Fowler's shit-list for long enough to recognize an attempt at being 'cordial' for what it really is."  
  
"And what is it really?" RK900 sighs, as if placating him.   
  
"You're just trying to save your ass from getting fired. Or I guess in your case, to keep yourself from getting recycled into a toaster."

Nines glares down at him, his LED pulses _red, red, blue, blue._

"Perhaps we should-"  
  
"What? Go to a movie and give each other hand jobs?"  
  
"Perhaps..." Nines glowers, "we should continue this conversation _after_ we've interrogated the Traci unit."  
  
"The Traci unit? She's fixed too?"

"Yes, and if you would cease your nonsensical fantasies, perhaps we could accomplish this particular task within the hour."  
  
Gavin grabs his leather jacket off the back of his chair and flips it on. "Hey, you're the one asking to be friends all of a sudden, _pal."_  
  
"Two new nicknames in one day," RK900 says curtly. "Shall I consider us friends already?"  
  
Gavin throws his head back and laughs, "I hate your fuckin' guts, and I know you hate mine. But sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."  
  
"I do not sleep."  
  
"Whatever. Lets just go and get this shit over with."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe ppl are still reading this! Thank you so much for reading and plz excuse my horrible updating schedule! I'm participating in a different fandom's 'Big Bang/writing challenge' but I'll update as frequently as I can!
> 
> Next chapter includes: Gavin & Nines interviewing Blue, as well as them going to visit Zlatko

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't realize that the blue haired Traci has the name Echo? Not sure if its Canon or Fanon so I may go back and change that later.


End file.
